


Reylo One Shot: Richard III

by hislightherdarkness



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Shakespeare Quotations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hislightherdarkness/pseuds/hislightherdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of Act 1 Scene 2 of Richard III between Richard and Anne. All the dialog belongs to William Shakespeare, but the edits are mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reylo One Shot: Richard III

**Author's Note:**

> Small Background: King Han and Queen Leia are in battle with the tyrannical King Snoke, of whom their son, dreaded knight Kylo Ren, serves. Their champion, honorable knight Poe Dameron, has been killed in battle, leaving a grieving betrothed, Lady Rey, ward of the estranged monk Luke Skywalker.

Rey had never been part of a funeral. After the service was had, she stayed behind to stay with the tomb of this once brilliant knight. He was good and kind, and she, even though she did not know him well, had mourned him very much. 

They were to marry after this bloody battle, but to hear that he had been defeated by that devil knight, Kylo Ren, she found herself alone. She had not many people of who she had cared for, and even less of those who would have cared for her, and now, she felt that chance of being loved gone.

She knelt before his tomb and started to silently pray, while fighting back the tears.

 

From the shadows, the same name devil knight, Kylo Ren had watched her.

His heart was wretched to see her so sad, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be sorry for the deed.

For a year he had loved her, wanted her, and worshiped her. Ever since he had seen her at the tournament, sitting beside his mother, being named the day the Queen of Love and Beauty. If he had participated and was not on duty to his king, he would have won it for her and had her named such a befitting title for all the days of her life.

He could not stop himself from following her, from knowing what she did and how she was. He had employed a servant in her way, a more than willing peasant named Finn, to befriend her and each night this peasant would come back to tell Kylo of her.

He had come to love her for her brilliance, her kindness, her courage, and most especially for her fiery nature.

When he had heard that the knight, Dameron, who was his rival on the battlefield, was to become his rival in her love, he nearly went mad with fury. He knew the match was wrong, not because he believed that Dameron would have been unkind to her, but rather that he would never truly understand her. Rey was no simple and quiet woman to be married off, no, for she was passionate, and commanding; men have on many occasion, stood at attention whenever she had walked in.

Kylo understood her, he knew he was the better match, and then there were the nightmares. The dreams that plagued him, the ones of the two of them, Dameron touching her, kissing her, and many a times Kylo has cried out in anguish at such dreams.

So when these two great enemies came face to face on the battlefield, Kylo had to confess that killing Dameron was more personal than political.

And now here he was, staring at her, so close to the prize he longed for so long. He set his helmet down at the steps of the chapel and then he quietly entered, hoping to not frighten her. She gave no indication that she was aware of his presence, and he saw, when he came closer, that she was silently sobbing and her shoulders were shaking.

He knelt down behind her, his heart aching for her. He raised a tentative hand and softly rested it upon her shoulder.

Rey gasped at the touch, and looking, she saw a hand of a man. She wondered if it might have been the king or her guardian. But when she turned, she saw that it was none other than he. Her intended’s killer, he was here, touching her. How dare he! How dare he come here and profane this holy ground with his monstrous and murderous form?

Letting her fury commanding her, she slapped him.

Kylo dropped his hand from her shoulder and stared at her. He felt not much of a physical pain, but more of a sense of betrayal.

“Lady, you know no rules of charity, which renders good for bad, blessings for curses,” he said as he rubbed his cheek.

“Villain, thou know’st not law of God nor man. No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity,” she spatted back at him.

“But I know none, and therefore am no beast.”

“O, wonderful, when devils tell the truth!”

“More wonderful, when angels are so angry.” Kylo stared at her with great wonder, which caused Rey to feel uncomfortable. “Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, of these supposèd crimes to give me leave by circumstance but to acquit myself.”

“Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man, of these known evils but to give me leave by circumstance to curse thy cursèd self.” Rey turned to the entombed knight and gesturing to it, she asked, “Didst thou not kill this knight?”

Kylo paused, and then looking down, he answered, “I grant you.”

Enraged, Rey sneered, “Dost grant me, hedgehog? Then, God grant me too thou mayst be damnèd for that wicked deed.” Turning back to the tomb, lying upon it, her hands caressing its cover. “O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.”

“The better for the King of heaven that hath him.”

“He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.” She growled, snapping back to him.

“Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither, for he was fitter for that place than earth.”

“And thou unfit for any place but hell.”

Kylo felt bold and spoke, “Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.”

“Some dungeon.”

“Your bedchamber.”

Rey stared at him, trying to see some mockery or violence in his face or eyes, but she saw neither and such a thought disturbed her that she rose to look down upon him. “Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest!”

“So will it, madam till I lie with you.”

Rey scoffed, “I hope so.”

“I know so. But, gentle Lady Rey, is not the causer of the timeless death as blameful as the executioner?”

Amazed by such a comment, Rey never had known anyone to speak to her in such a way.“Thou wast the cause and most accursed effect.”

Kylo stood, standing close and staring deeply into her eyes. “Your beauty was the cause of that effect. Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep to undertake the death of all the world, so I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.”

This man must either be telling truth, Rey thought, or else he must be a wonderful lair. She choose to believe the latter. “If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,” she started, raising her hands to show him, “these nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.”

She was ready to scratch her face with both hands, but quicker, Kylo gently took hold of them. “These eyes could never endure that beauty’s wrack. You should not blemish it, if I stood by. As all the world is cheerèd by the sun, so I by that. It is my day, my life.” He tried to kiss her hands, but she wretched herself away, stepping away from the tomb and shouting at his back.

“Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life.”

Turning to her he retorted, “Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.”

“I would I were, to be revenged on thee.”

“It is a quarrel most unnatural to be revenged on him that loveth thee.”

Heat and anger raising, she yelled, “It is a quarrel just and reasonable to be revenged on him that killed my husband.”

“He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband did it to help thee to a better husband.”

“His better doth not breathe upon the earth.” She challenged.

“He lives that loves thee better than he could.”

Insulted by this claim that Poe could not love her well had made her heart beat fast with fury. “Where is he?” she asked.

Coming close, and with tenderness, he took her hand to his heart and whispered, “Here.”

Rey stared at him wide eyed, amazed at such a terrible declaration. This monster could not love, certainly love her more than Poe could have. Pulling her hand away, she spit at him, disgusted at such a thought of him loving her and worst, the idea of her loving him. 

Kylo stood there in shock. Perhaps he was foolish to have hoped that she would have accepted him quickly, after all he did kill her betrothed. He wiped away the spit and asked, “Why dost thou spit at me?”

“Would it were mortal poison for thy sake,” she hissed.

“Never came poison from so sweet a place.”

“Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.”

He smiled, wrapping a hand around her neck speaking, “Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.” He leaned in to kiss her but she pushed him away.

“Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead.”

“I would they were, that I might die at once, for now they kill me with a living death,” he shouted, now tired of playing around with his words. “Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, shamed their aspect with store of childish drops. These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear— And what such sorrows could not thence exhale thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.”

She watched him carefully, waiting to see some hint of falsehood or joy at his game, but all she saw was torment and, despite her wish, her heart gave a tug of pity for him.

He continued, recovering himself from such a speech, to speak more plainly. “I never sued to friend, nor enemy; my tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word. But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, my proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.”

He moved closer to whisper tenderly, as his fingers caressed her face. “Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it were made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt.” She turned her head, a scornful frown planted on her face. Feeling hopeless, he offered, “If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword,” he spoke, pulling out his dagger from his sheath, “which if thou please to hide in this true breast” he took her hand, wrapping the handle of the dagger in her hand, “and let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke And humbly beg the death upon my knee.”

He kneels and helps point the dagger atop his heart, opening his arms in defeat.

“Nay, do not pause; for I did kill Poe Dameron—But ’twas thy beauty that provokèd me. Nay, now dispatch; ’twas I that stabbed your betrothed—But ’twas thy heavenly face that set me on.”

Rey looked upon him with steady contempt, and she pressed the dagger onto him, and after seeing him wince she paused. What, would she stoop to his level and be a killer as well? Keeping her composure, she tossed the dagger with confident defiance before him.

Surprised by her action, he looked upon her. He was not satisfied with such an answer, it was either have her or die. “Take up the sword again, or take up me.”

“Arise, dissembler. Though I wish thy death, I will not be the executioner,” she calmly informed him.

Was she purposely trying to test him? Anger him? No matter, perhaps it was wrong of him to ask her to kill him, when it ought to be another. He picked up the dagger, placing it at his throat. “Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.”

“I have already.”

“That was in thy rage. Speak it again and, even with the word, this hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, shall for thy love kill a far truer love. To both their deaths shalt thou be accessory,” he added with pain.

She looked at him, shaking her head in confusion. “I would I knew thy heart.” She meant it. This man was truly a puzzle. How could he be so willing to kill innocents for a tyrant, come here to a holy ground and speak words of dear love to her?

“'Tis figured in my tongue.”

“I fear me both are false,” she admitted.

“Then never man was man true,” he said, ready to slit his throat.

Rey gasped, which caused him to pause, looking at her with blinding hope. Rey placed a hand over her heart and steady said, “Well, well,” she looked upon him with pity she gently commanded, “put up your sword.”

Kylo dropped it, for he would do anything she would ask of him. “Say then my peace is made.”

“That shall you know hereafter.”

“But shall I live in hope?” he asked, quickly standing before her.

Feeling warm at such a closeness, she turned and whispered, “All men I hope live so.”

Kylo, taking this as a sign, pulled off his ring and offered it to her on his knees. “Vouchsafe to wear this ring.”

She turned and looked to see the ring. It was gold and set in the middle was a ruby trimmed with onyx. She reached out for it, but then, fearful that she would be bound to an oath or so that would bind her without her full consent, she warned, “To take is not to give.”

He placed the ring on her left ring finger, and then stood, gently holding it into his hand.

“Look, how this ring encompasseth finger; even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart. Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.” On an impulse, and at the risk of receiving her fury, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

Rey gasped at such a gentle action and confessed, “With all my heart, and much it joys me too to see you are become so penitent.”

They looked at each other, a strange sensation, a kind of pulse passed between them. Rey had almost wished that Kylo would come close and try to kiss her again, but she quickly banished such wanton thoughts as they were not appropriate. 

“Bid me farewell?” He whispered.

“'Tis more than you deserve;” he lowered his gaze, which caused her to backtrack and reply, “but since you teach me how to flatter you, imagine I have said ‘farewell’ already.” She whispered back, fearful of her own voice.

Grateful of that answer he smiled. He bowed before her and walked out.

Rey watched him leave, still in wonder of what had transpired. She stared at the ring on her finger and thought of his kiss. Poe was a good man, but there was something of this dark knight that provoked something deeper within herself, despite everything.

Was it wrong to have feelings for her betrothed murderer?

No, she thought, not when his remorse is true and was a loving as he was to her.

She was sure that if they see each other again, she would not have such hatred for him, but may even welcome it.

She turned back to the tomb, resting both hands onto it, and thinking of her dead duty to her betrothed and her wishful longing of her secret suitor.

 

Was ever a woman in this humor wooed?

Kylo took a few steps before looking back at the chapel.

There was hope, hope that she would have him, love him. This gave him new life, a life he had not had since he was a child. He was cheered by this thought, until he remembered, Snoke.

His lord and master had required of Kylo that when he established the Knights of Ren that they were to give up all earthly possessions, avoid temptation and cut off all emotional ties. If his master had known of what had transpired here, no doubt Rey would be put into grave danger.

“I will have her,” he muttered, as he picked up his helmet, staring at her form. “And I shall keep her. Let no man meddle, or else let them quarrel with my blade, which hath run through my rival. Which shall do so again, for she that is my life.”

He put on his helmet, walking away, plotting on how to have her.


End file.
